


The Trees Are Watching You

by Familiae



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, M/M, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:31:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Familiae/pseuds/Familiae
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Trees didn’t have thoughts.

That’s pretty obvious, but it’s a relief.

That’s why the woods were peaceful. Forest life usually didn’t have many thoughts. It’s kinda hard to royally piss off a squirrel unless you fuck with their nuts.

So the woods are a relief. Mostly.

Except for when the eyes stare. And they often do. Most of them look drowsy, half-lidded, obviously bored with their never-changing surroundings. But the sounds of a new victim have them alert and wide, rolling around in their sockets as they search out the poor sod who dared tread into such a desolate and hopeless place like the woods.

One of them locked on Avira. Dead on. He froze, his breath catching before it even got to his throat, his eyes locked onto the giant, bloodshot thing that stared back at him.

It was watching him. Scrutinizing him. Examining him. Dissecting him. Mentally tearing him apart and—

The hairs on the back of his neck rose sharply, causing a shiver to ripple down his spine. Raw panic started to constrict his chest, and he could feel a fit coming on. His jaw was almost numb. That was always the first sign. It was never a good thing, but that was always the first sign.

Something crinkled from far away. Or maybe not. It was hard to keep things straight when he was using all his willpower to fight off the fit. But he couldn’t look away from that god-forsaken eye. He couldn’t calm down until he looked away. But he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move his eyes. He couldn’t—

His legs felt weird. Tingly. Like they were falling asleep. Bad sign. So very, very bad. He didn’t consciously move, but he was suddenly sitting on his haunches, his eyes still locked on that eye. It was watching him so intently, and though it was impossible, it looks _vicious_ and—

Thoughts. They weren’t loud, they weren’t screams, they weren’t wails, but there were _thoughts_. And that was the one thing he didn’t want—there weren’t thoughts in the woods. There just wasn’t. There were trees, and there were eyes, and there was even some groans, and there were small furry, teethed animals, but there wasn’t _thoughts_.

And he was suddenly angry at this intrusion, and angry at himself for having another fit, and things just added up and—and—

That was when he screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he became aware of was that he was lying down—a shuffle of his arms and he confirmed the fact that he was pinned under something. Excellent. Drowsy as he was, Saku didn’t fully register the significance of this until a bird jabbed its beak on his shoulder and tried to tear flesh.

A small cry escaped his lips, his eyes flew open, and everywhere around him, what felt like thousands of blackbirds took flight, buffeting him with their wings. The noise was deafening, and while unsure of what exactly was happening, Saku wasted no time in scrabbling away from his current position—pinned under the twisting root of a tree.

On hands and knees he crawled away, flinching as a bird cawed by his ear.

He collapsed, grasping for breath, with his back against the rough back of a tree a few feet away. Once the cacophony settled down, he turned his head just enough to look at what—_and what the fuck was that?_ It looked like a dead animal the size of a horse—maybe a large buck?—he couldn’t tell. All he could see was the bright red flesh and the little rivers of blood and guts that snaked away from the body.

He would’ve been more concerned over the fact that he seemed to have been peacefully napping while the thing rotted away, but there was no time. There was a sense of urgency about him—like he needed to _do _something. He rose, unsteady, to his feet, and tried to escape the stomach curdling smell of the dead animal.

That was when he heard the scream.

Now, Saku wasn’t overly concerned, in his mind people screamed for all kinds of things. He did find it odd that there was someone this deep in the woods though—normally some nasty critter ate them before they got this far. Thus, it was curiosity more than anything that made him adjust his destination and insert the new coordinates into his system—_who was this fella getting eaten by what now?_

He was hardly surprised to see that there was a kid getting molested by the eyeball trees. The things had crawled up towards the kid on roots and branches, and the eyes were pressing against the back of his head, back, ass, and legs, leaving trails of slime and eye crust on his clothes.

Now being the diligent and helpful citizen Saku was, he closed the distance between himself and the trees’ victim, blatantly ignoring any eyeballs that tried to press against him, and helpfully opened his mouth to say:

“I’m guessing you can’t give me directions?”


	3. Chapter 3

They were imprisoning him. Locking him down. Trapping him. They were tangling him and—and—

They were _strangling_ him.

And he was stuck. And he was starting to hyperventilate, and he was—

But then there was a voice, and it was like a veil was lifted, and things all of a sudden made sense. Roots. They were grabbing at him, groping him, dragging him down. And there was someone—he could hear quiet, wordless thoughts. Flashes, emotions, feelings, _emotions_, and emotions—and it was those emotions he latched on to.

He looked at this intruder whose mind was starting to encroach on his own, and he started calming down—he started tuning in to these new feelings, these calm, cool, collected feelings, and his legs didn’t feel so numb anymore. He could _feel_ the roots pressing down on him, biting into his skin, but he wasn’t panicking. And his jaw didn’t feel so numb anymore.

Or maybe it was. Because he didn’t even feel it move when he responded, almost on autopilot, “Right, because I look like I know where the hell I’m going myself, right?”

The words were loaded with sarcasm he didn’t know he could muster and a touch of the bitterness he thought he had momentarily forgotten. And Avira instantly regretted using such a tone—and he hated himself for acting so impulsively, but he always did, didn’t he?

But before he collapsed into another fit of self-pity, he again latched onto this stranger’s composure and calmed down. That was when he felt himself being tugged forward.

The roots were pulling-pushing-tugging-yanking him toward one of the trees, with their numerous eyes held open wide. He pulled against them, but he might as well have blinked with how helpful that was.

The tree was dragging him towards it, and Avira had no idea what it wanted with him once it got him where it wanted him, but it couldn’t be anything good. These trees didn’t look like they enjoyed afternoon tea time with crumpets, and he had no intention of finding out what they _did_ enjoy doing to living beings.

He glanced at the stranger to see if he was having the same trouble Avira was having, but it seemed that the trees’ attention was focused solely on Avira.

Just great.

“I don’t suppose you have any suggestions on how to get out of this?” he gritted between his teeth, digging the palms of his hands into the ground as a sort of futile makeshift break. After a pause, he tacked on, almost like an afterthought, “Do you, mate?”


	4. Chapter 4

Saku radiated mild amusement as he heard the kid’s words. Heard, but did not bother to formulate a reply. Something sticky pushed against his cheek, and he pushed it away with a gentle hand. Why the kid had such a hard time with them, he didn’t know (_Maybe he was eye candy to the trees?_ He thought to himself, biting back a smile). Whatever the case, he was content to merely watch the show unfolding before him—although sooner or later he would become an actor. Starting role—the hero, knight in shining bright white armor saving the maiden from the dark forest—that sounded nice—_savior knight_ did have a nice ring to it.

The kid’s voice interrupted his inner thoughts, and, bemused, Saku forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. The eyeballs were being too clingy. They were dragging him so the others could poke him, and maybe even eat him.

  
“Yes,” he replied, at length, taking his sweet ole time to take those few steps that would shorten the distance between himself and the kid, putting him within arm’s reach. Carefully, he reached towards one of the eyeballs—a bright amber pupil rolled towards him and fixed there, and stroked it tenderly—as one would a dear pet. “You have to be gentle, see?”

And with the same patience, he took to the task, grasping another branch and easing it away from the kid’s arm, turning his attention to the eyeball, smiling contently down at it, and ignoring the feel of its slime on his fingers. “They don’t like it when you’re rough,” he plowed on with a bigger smile “the fighting—it pisses them off.”

He paused only long enough to look at the kid then, as if suddenly remembering that he was there. Immediately the eyes came to focus—a green that tried to stretch towards gold, but instead landing in a sickly, in-between color, this close he could see the flecks of different shades in them, the little twitches of the muscle just behind, the pupil’s tiny little movements. It gave him a startling appearance—bright eyes on a pale face. “You have nice eyes.”

He was tempted to reach forward, and grasp his face, tilt his chin until his eyes caught the faint light to see how the colors danced on them—his reflection on them, the forest, the trees. From this angle he could hardly see it—if only he could move the kid, he could see the eyes better. His hand twitched, but he dropped his gaze, turning to pet the next eyeball. _Not now_, he told himself, _I’ll have them later._

“They just want to be petted, see?” and as an example, he turned to the next eyeball and repeated the process, “just need a little love and affection.”


	5. Chapter 5

Avira wanted to flinch back when this stranger stepped forward, but he didn’t reach to touch Avira, but rather—

The _things_. The roots. The trees. The _eyes_. How anyone could touch those things and not flinch back was beyond him. He could feel the thick gunk that those eyes excreted, and he had long been since ready to bolt.

But then, to put the cherry on the cake—this guy started _stroking_ the things like they were pets. Love and affection. Of _course_ they just wanted love and affection. Turned out they _didn’t_ want to eat him alive. They _did _want some tea and crumpets.

Of course.

Avira tried not to express his—what? Disgust? Morbid fascination?—whatever he was feeling when he finally managed to utter, “I’m going to have to admit that a belly rub was not on my list of possible immediate reactions.”

But tentatively, he reached down and stroked one of the things that was near his leg. He didn’t move with the enthusiasm that the other guy did. Instead, his motion was hesitant, almost a little jerky, and gentle—though not from tenderness so much as the desire to touch the slimy thing as little as possible.

Then he turned to look at the stranger again, and in their short moment of shared eye contact, those whispers, so silent they were almost wordless, suddenly gained a real voice, and he could feel the man’s obsession with eyes. Eyes eyes eyes eyes beautiful gorgeous eyes eyes eyes eyes...

Avira had to break eye contact to stop the sudden wash of feelings, and was almost afraid to look at the man again.

So instead, he did what he was so good at doing. He pretended like nothing happened and changed the conversation. “So what are you doing out here anyway?”

One of the eyes moved against him, and maybe it was that short burst of a connection, but it didn’t seem so repulsive anymore.


End file.
